


Don't Touch Me I Just Want To Be Held

by Assassins_Wolves



Series: Hold Me Tight and Don't Let Go [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Violence, Protective Robb, Protective Talisa, Rescue, Rescued Slave, Slow Burn, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassins_Wolves/pseuds/Assassins_Wolves
Summary: Talisa has the power to kill with a touch. Known as the Grim, she is bound to the Lannisters as a slave and used as a weapon against her will. The Lannisters are also holding her little brother Rhoyne in captivity. What will happen when the werewolf Robb Stark attacks the base where they are kept?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is only my second ever fanfic. Please comment and help me improve!

They're coming. I can hear the Stark wolves beating down the door to the castle, hear their savage snarls and growls. I push Rhoyne back behind me with one arm, trying to block my little brother's body with mine. Even though I know it's useless, I can't help wishing that Tywin would have left a loophole in his orders. Unfortunately, he was very clear, and the golden collar around my neck forces me to obey. Stay here, stay quiet. Not allowed to use my powers to kill anyone. I can only use my touch of death when Tywin orders me too, never to protect myself. 

I strain my ears, listening to the sound of fighting going on upstairs. There's crashes and snarls and the sound of swords clashing together, but I can't tell whether the Starks or Lannisters are winning. Maybe they'll all kill each other and then we can escape. With one final scream, the sounds of fighting stop. I slowly get to my feet, still lightheaded from blood loss. The chain around my ankle rattles at the movement.

I reach for the collar hopefully. Maybe Tywin is dead and the spell binding me to him will be lifted. But when I reach for it, it simmers warningly against my neck. That was the first order Tywin ever gave me. No one is allowed to touch the collar. I drop my hands in frustration. Is he still alive? What if he's dead and my magic will be bound out of my grasp forever?

I can hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Rhoyne whimpers a little, putting his hand on my arm to seek reassurance. Six years old, and already he knows not to cry. "It's okay. I'm right here," I whisper. I shift in front of him, trying to shield him with my body. The door splinters against a heavy impact and then bursts open.

A Stark direwolf stands in front of me, fangs extended and claws dripping blood. Not quite a wolf, not quite a human. I drop to my knees pulling Rhoyne down with me and tilt my head down and to the side, baring my neck submissively. I need to show him that I'm not a threat before he rips me in half. But if he knows who I am, he'll probably kill me regardless. 

"Grim," he growls leveling me with dark eyes. He knows who I am. I flinch a little at the name. Grim is the name Tywin called me, the name for the weapon he made me into, the name of the person who has killed many many people. Grim is not my name.

I bring one hand up slowly, gesturing at the collar around my neck. "I can't use my touch unless Tywin orders me. I can't hurt you," I assure him, keeping my eyes down. The direwolf doesn't speak, but narrows his eyes. Rhoyne sniffles. The direwolf's head snaps up, seeing Rhoyne for the first time.

"He's just a child!" I burst out frantically, grabbing his arm and yanking him behind me. I'm too rough, Rhoyne gasps in pain but stays silent. I can't focus on Rhoyne right now, I'm too busy watching the first direwolf. "He's human!" I plead in a last ditch attempt to protect him.

"We don't hurt children," the direwolf states firmly. Another direwolf joins him at the door, this one a female with fiery red hair. She eyes me with intense hatred, but her eyes soften when she sees Rhoyne's wide, frightened ones. Her fangs melt into blunted teeth and her claws shrink into carefully manicured nails.

"It's all right," she soothes, taking a step forward.

"Please, I'll do anything. Please don't take him from me," I beg, still clinging tightly to him. "He's my little brother." Maybe he's telling the truth that they won't hurt him, that they would raise him as one of their own, but he's all I have.

"He's better off without you, Grim," the female growls viciously. She steps around me and rips Rhoyne away with her direwolf strength, careful not to touch me. Rhoyne holds very still as she lifts him in her arms, looking at me in fear. He knows not to fight back, but I can tell he doesn't want this woman to hold him.

The female steps back, but doesn't leave the room. She bounces Rhoyne on her hip and smiles at him. "Get Robb, Jon," she snaps at the first direwolf. Jon disappears from the doorway, leaving us with the female. I'm chained to the floor, my magic bound, forced to watch her pet Rhoyne's hair. Rhoyne hiccups and wipes his nose roughly, holding back tears. The female direwolf, for her part, doesn't mind the snot on her shirt. She continues to bounce and soothe him, whispering to him sweetly about how handsome he is.

They won't hurt him, I realize. They'll be good to him, probably better than I could ever be. It's selfish of me to want him to stay with me, the Grim. There's no guarantee I can protect him, not like the wolves can. "It's okay, Rhoyne. You can trust her," I tell him, but I can't stop my voice from shaking. Rhoyne's smart enough to realize how terrified I am, but I think he believes me.

The distinctive sound of bones breaking outside the door makes me jump. Torches in the hall throw the shadow of a hulking wolf onto the wall outside the cell. As I watch, the shadow shrinks down and then changes into the shape of a man. My first thought is shock that the Stark direwolf can completely shift into a wolf. The second is the realization that their wolf form is too big to fit into the cell, and they had to shift back into a person just to fit.

The shifted direwolf enters the small stone cell, and his broad form still crowds the small space. He's definitely the Alpha, his eyes are still glowing red from battle, but they fade to blue as I watch. He's younger than I thought he would be. The first direwolf, Jon, steps into view behind him.

I bow my head in respect, showing the Alpha the back of my neck, another submissive move. He grunts, and I risk a glance up at him. He's got brown hair and a short brown beard but a muscular build. He's still young, but he's strong. Throw in his superhuman strength, and he's probably strong enough to fight through Tywin's goldsong. He must be, the Lannister army is obviously dead. The Alpha still has blood dripping down his chin. 

"Please." The plea slips out before I can stop it and I clamp my mouth shut. Stupid. I should have waited for him to speak first.

"Please what?" he rumbles.

"Please don't let Rhoyne - don't let him see. Please take him out before you do anything," I beg quietly. He's still so young, he doesn't deserve any of this. I don't want him to have to see me get ripped to shreds.

The Alpha's eyes flick over to the female and he nods. She turns and walks away, Rhoyne staring at me in fear over her shoulder. "T'lisa!" he screams, reaching for me. I swallow roughly, watching him until he disappears. It feels like a hole has been torn open in my soul.

I dip my head jerkily in gratitude at the Alpha and then wait. But he doesn't rip into me. He crouches next to me and reaches for my collar, probably trying to see if I can still use my magic. "I wouldn't," I warn frantically. 

But he's already touching it. The golden collar instantly glows yellow and then turns red, gaining heat. The Alpha snarls and yanks back his burnt hand. I dig my fingers into my thighs and grit my teeth. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can't escape the pain and smell of burning flesh. And then it stops. I gasp in relief.

"That wasn't me, I swear," I babble to the Alpha when I can breathe again. He probably thinks I burned him on purpose. "It does that when anyone touches it, even me, I can show you." I reach for the collar to demonstrate.

"No." The Alpha stops me with a word. I shift uncomfortably as the Alpha circles behind me. I can't help but tremble a little bit. The Starks are not known for their mercy. Tywin Lannister played a role in Ned Stark's death, almost two years ago now. The Starks will rip through anyone who had anything to do with it and won't stop until King Joffrey is dead.

Behind me, the Alpha leans forward and tears the chain around my ankle free from the floor. I can't help it, I jerk away from him. My heart is pounding in my ears like a hummingbird. "I'm just going to take this off," he says. He wraps his hands around the manacle on my foot and pulls. The iron snaps, setting my leg free. I pull my leg up under me, amazed that I'm still in one piece. 

"That's it?" I ask, dumfounded.

"What did you think would happen?" the Alpha asks, frowning.

"To be honest I thought you were going to kill me," I answer, knowing that the direwolf can sense whether or not I'm telling the truth by listening to my heart. The Alpha looks me over carefully for a long while.

"Jon tells me that you can't use your powers unless ordered to by Tywin. Is that true?" he finally asks.

"Yes. He can make me use my powers whenever he wants, but I can never use them for myself," I explain quickly. He nods thoughtfully and then extends his hand to me. 

I stare at it uncomprehendingly. "Let's go," the Alpha says, some impatience seeping in to his tone. Warily, I get to my feet, not accepting the offered hand. Our eyes meet as I stand. His eyes are a rich blue, full of compassion. "Let's get you out of here," he says simply. 


	2. Chapter 2

As the Alpha leads me out of the castle, he places one hand on the small of my back. I stiffen and gasp at the touch, but he doesn't seem to notice what he's done. He just touched the Grim. No one has touched me besides Rhoyne in a long, long time. I bite my lip to keep from crying out as his gentle touch brushes against the welts that cover my back. Despite the pain that his touch causes, I don't want him to stop.

It's a struggle forcing my body to move, but I manage to keep pace with the direwolf. Not for the first time, I wish I was a direwolf myself. To be able to heal in hours, not to mention their sharp teeth and claws are a natural defense. No one can take that away from them.

We pass the dead bodies wearing Lannister red, spread out across the floor. They're horribly maimed by the wolves, and there's blood everywhere. I can't find it in me to feel bad in the slightest. I hope that I get to see Tywin's corpse. I hope he suffered. He deserved it after everything he's done to me, I think vindictively.

\--Flashback--

Tywin stands over me, leveling the men before him with a stern look. I kneel at his feet while he speaks with his commanders, three other men. They stand awkwardly around his dinner table while he eats his meal. "The men need rest," one says hesitantly. "You can't keep running them like this."

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do," Tywin says coldly, looking up from his plate for the first time. His gaze flicks to me quietly, full of calculation. I dig my fingernails into my palms. No, no no I think.

He pushes his plate back at last. "Kill everyone in this room but me," he orders, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork. Normally, I would let the compulsion push me forward, but something makes me hesitate. The collar flares to life, starting to burn. I slowly get to my feet, dreading what will happen next. The blood drains from the men's faces and they stagger backwards.

I step forward to the first man and place my hand on his chest. He dies instantly. I move to the next one, tap his forehead. The pressure in my collar lessens with every kill. The last one trip over himself and falls to the ground as he tries to get away from me. I bend down and gently cup his cheek in my hand. He dies before his last breath rattles though his teeth. 

I slowly straighten, feeling numb.

"I really thought we were past this Grim," Tywin sighs in disappointment. I tense the muscles in the back of my neck in an angry jerk, aborting the movement. That is not my name, I think furiously.

"Would you rather I give you a different command? Something simpler perhaps?" he asks, his tone dangerous. I shake my head quietly, fear building in me. "Why don't you go kill Rhoyne instead." he commands.

I dig my heels in and refuse the command. I clench my jaw angrily, fighting against the compulsion of the collar around my neck that forces me to obey Tywin's commands. The collar is punishing me, heating hotter and hotter until it burns my flesh. Once it gets to a certain point, I know I'll lose my grip. That's what scares me the most. I know that no matter how hard I fight, in the end I'll won't be able to stop myself

I scream in frustration and terror, trying to fight the collar. No, no no.

"I'm sorry! It won't happen again. Please! Please don't make me!" I beg, bracing myself against the wall.

The collar wants to climb down the stairs I know I'll find in the next room, throw open the door, and murder my little brother. I cling desperately to the part that's me, the part that knows I don't really want to kill Rhoyne. 

My body takes a step forward without my consent. "No!" I scream in panic, trying to hold myself back like one would hold back a big dog on the end of a leash.

Tywin watches me struggle, a cruel smile on his face. Just as I reach the stairs, sobbing in terror, he relents. "Stop," he says in a bored tone. I collapse to the ground, panting heavily in relief. "Go fetch my whip," he orders. I don't bother fighting this one, letting my legs stand and make my way to the dreaded room where it is kept. 

I bring it back to Tywin and kneel at his feet without him having to tell me. "Now," he says, rolling up his sleeves. "Take of your shirt, bend over that table, and hold still. I'll give you something to think about next time you try to resist, Grim."

\---

"You with me?" the Alpha asks, taking my elbow to steer me around a corpse. I blink to myself, trying to shake the dark memory. With a quick glance at the Alpha I nod. I return to surveying the ground around me, looking for a certain corpse. The Alpha pulls me out the door before I can find him. Cold air rushes in, and I hug my thin cloak closer to my body

As I step outside, I throw up one hand to shelter my eyes from the sun. I didn't even know it was day. The group of people waiting on the Alpha spring forward, teeth bared and swords held aloft. I slowly lower my hand again and squint into the sun. Stark's men gradually relax back to their originally positions, eying me harshly. One of the Stark banners catches my eye. 

Held aloft on a spear above the banner is a Tywin Lannisters's head, as well as most of his neck. It's not a clean cut at all, it looks as though someone ripped his head off and took a good portion of his upper body. I swallow harshly and meet his dead eyes. For a second, I am overwhelmed by emotion. Everyday for as long as I can remember I have thought about killing him. Now, as I look at his severed head I feel cheated. I thought I would feel relieved to see him dead, but I can't help feeling empty. I wanted to be the one to kill him, to punish him for what he did to Rhoyne and me.

Suddenly panicked, I tear my eyes away from Tywin and search the crowd for Rhoyne. When I can't find his small form, I scan the crowd for the female direwolf with red hair that took Rhoyne. I jerk my head from side to side, desperately trying to find Rhoyne.

“Sansa went to catch up with the men already dispatched to report back to Winterfell. They'll take him from there. My mother is there, she’ll look after him," the Alpha informs me gruffly, as though reading my thoughts. "I can't leave the front lines, so you will have to stay with me here. It's no place for a child" He looks from the gathered crowd back to me. "I can't guarantee your safety if you leave my side," he warns quietly. 

He turns and walks off without another word. I glance at the hostile look on the faces of his men and then turn and follow him. He begins to order men to stay at this castle, hold the stronghold. Others will accompany him back to their camp. The wounded are carefully loaded into wagons. I watch their faces contort in agony as they are lifted, and the blood staining their bandages. The bandages aren't wrapped correctly, they're not putting enough pressure on the wounds. 

I could help them. No one will ever trust me enough to let me, but if I could just make one person better, maybe they would. I turn away without a word, following the Alpha across the plain that has been ripped up and soaked in blood. He has a name, I've heard his men use it. Robb Stark. Tywin never deigned to call him by his name, he had a lot more creative names for the King of the North.

I know Tywin played a part in the murder of Robb's father. I hope that by killing him he got some vengeance. It might not have happened how I wanted, but I got mine in the end. Tywin's dead, and that's what matters. Robb seems tenser than he did before, as if worried the victory might be too good to be true. I watch him carefully as he talks with his men, taking the opportunity to observe him without his knowledge. From my brief experience with him, Robb seems to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Robb interrupts my train of thought as he mounts a horse tied to a low hanging branch. Am I supposed to walk behind him? I'm dead on my feet as it is, I don't think I can keep up. He glances back at me expectantly.

"Well, get on," he says, jerking his head towards a roan mare tied to a nearby tree. 

Wordlessly, I untie the mare and mount her. I used to love to ride, but ever since... Well Rhoyne is the only living thing I've touched in years. I already miss him. The past two days spent with him in the cell was the longest we've been together in a while. Tywin often punished me by not letting me even see Rhoyne for days, even weeks on end. Now Tywin's dead, and we're separated again. Isn't life just hilarious.

Robb Stark begins to ride towards his tents on the frontline of battle, and I have no choice but to follow him.


	3. Chapter 3

Robb Stark's tents are much nicer than what I was expecting. From how Tywin described the Starks I was expecting savages huddled around fires and feasting on the corpses of their enemies. Instead, there are row after row of neatly setup tents, with clear pathways between them. Everything looks well organized, men going about their tasks efficiently. As Robb goes by, they stop to nod in respect to him. Robb nods back and even greets some by name, much to my surprise.

He takes us through the camp to the largest tent, which I assume is his. He dismounts his horse and begins to tie him to a post outside. Mirroring him, I tie my horse up as well, though I'm sure my knot is much messier than his. "Come with me." Robb walks towards the entrance of the tent without checking to see if I am following him.

Robb holds the tent flap up behind him and I duck underneath it inside the tent. I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dark. It's warmer in here, out of the piercing wind. His brother Jon is already there, surveying a map spread out on a table with several other men. At the sight of us, Jon dismisses them and turns to us.

I study the direwolf, trying to piece together what I've heard about him. His clothes are all jet black, and his curly hair and stubble is black as well. Lord Commander of the Wall indeed. Tywin had heard that the bastard son of Ned Stark returned from the wall as soon as the news of his father's death reached him, despite reaching such a position of leadership.

I had heard the rumors from the Lannister soldiers that Jon fell on his own sword in order to free himself from his duty through death. They say he came back to life as a snow white wolf, but he still looks human to me.

"Grim," he states, tightening his jaw. He look past me to Robb. "What are we going to do?" he asks.

"The collar binds her to Tywin. We need it off." Robb rests his hands heavily on the tables, grabbing the edge.

"If he's dead, shouldn't the goldsong have worn off?" I ask in concern.

"Oh he's dead," Robb growls lowly. "But if control of the collar passes down to either of his sons - well then we have to take it off."

"Why not kill her?" Jon asks evenly. 

My heart jumps in my throat. I'm certainly not going to disagree with the decision to keep me alive, but it seems like Robb is going to a lot of trouble to keep me alive. 

"Think about it, Jon. She could be an asset. We need all the help we can get." Robb turns to me. "When did they put the collar on you?" he asks. "Did you see how it was done?"

"That was years ago, I was fourteen when they put it on." Rhoyne was just a baby then, and I was desperate to protect him. I stayed huddled in a cell, clinging to him and killing anyone who tried to touch us. Tywin needed a way to reign me in, and his goldsong was the way to do it. The Lannisters are able to imbue powerful spells in gold with their powers, unbreakable to anyone without Lannister blood running through their veins.

"Tywin put his goldsong into the collar, binding me to him. But there was also a woman there, a red woman. Red hair, red clothes, held fire in her hand. She melted the collar closed around my neck and burned runes into it. I can't touch it, no one can, you saw that," I say to Robb. He nods, brows furrowed.

"What exactly does it do?" Jon asks.

"It forces my to obey Tywin completely. When he ordered me to kill, I couldn't stop myself. If he told me not eat for an entire week, I couldn't even touch a piece of bread. It binds me as a slave to him," I explain.

The brothers are both silent, heavy looks upon their faces.

"Is Grim your real name?" Robb asks, breaking the silence.

"Tywin called me that, it's what I was expected to answer to. My name is Talisa Maegyr, but my brother Rhoyne is the only one who calls me that." It would be nice to be called by my name again. Hearing Rhoyne say my name again would be more than enough for me. 

"Why did Tywin need your little brother?" Jon asks.

"Tywin needed Rhoyne as a way to punish me. He was afraid to touch me so he would threaten to make me kill him if I didn't do what he said," I answer. Tywin never would have admitted it, but he was afraid of my power.

"Right." Robb clenches his jaw and drops his gaze to the collar. "Jon, let's you and I grab opposite sides at the same time. We'll give it one good pull and then let go." He addresses the last part to me, catching my eye.

I nod, agreeing with the plan. I don't think it will work but I would love to have the collar taken off. Jon and Robb position themselves on opposite sides of me. On the count of three, they both grab the golden collar and pull with all their strength.

It starts heating up immediately, hissing against their hands.Together they strain against the metal, muscles bulging. Jon lets go first, and Robb quickly follows him. I focus on breathing. My throat is on fire with pain.

"That didn't work," I rasp out, reaching up to soothe my neck.

"Don't touch it," Robb says in exasperation. My hand freezes half-way to my throat, the muscles locking down. My eyes widen and I look towards Robb. He has no idea what he's done, but I can feel the compulsion stopping me.

"Tell me to do something," I say quickly, my heart racing with my realization. He looks at me in confusion, but upon meeting my eyes, his face dawns with realization.

"Put your hand down," he orders. My hand flies back down to my side. 

"You're controlling it," I exclaim. 

"I'm the one who killed Tywin," Robb realizes aloud. "So the control of the collar went to me."

Both direwolves turn to look at me. I raise an eyebrow. I had nothing to do with this new development. Why are they looking to me for answers? If they want to know how the collar works, I'm certainly not going to explain how to use it most effectively against me.

Robb must be thinking the same thing. He turns to face me and raises one finger. "You are not to use your touch on me or any other person--"

"Or direwolf," Jon interrupts. Robb nods.

"Or direwolf that fights under the Stark banner," he finishes.

"And Rhoyne?" I ask boldly.

"I won't use your brother against you," Robb promises, looking me in the eye. "He'll be safe in Winterfell with my mother. Sansa will return to the front to fight with us."

I swallow harshly but nod. I'm not sure I trust Robb, but I believe that he won't hurt Rhoyne. My heart aches when I think of being separated from him, but Robb is right. This is no place for children. He'll be safe at Winterfell with Robb's younger brothers.

"I bet he'll get along with Rickon," Jon says, the corner of his mouth tugging up in what could be a smile on anyone else.

Robb claps his brothers shoulder affectionately. "Stay here with her, I need to go speak with. . .someone," he finishes vaguely, eyeing me as though remembering who I am. Jon doesn't seem to happy to be left babysitting me, but he nods all the same. Robb meets my eyes one last time and then ducks out of the tent.

Jon turns to me. "Never thought I'd meet the Grim," he says flatly. And then he goes back to studying the map. I blink at his reaction. I was expecting something more. . . hostile than being ignored. I can't seem to get a feel for these direwolves. 

I drift over to the map, and tilt my head to look at it. Jon seems wary of me being so close to him, so I cross my arms and tuck my hands under my armpits. It's a map of the Seven Kingdoms, with figurines representing the Lannister army and the Stark forces. There are other figurines as well, but I don't recognize their flags.

"This isn't right," I say, pointing at a red lion positioned on one side of the river. "They're camped on the other side of the river. Something about direwolves not being able to cross over water."

Jon snorts in amusement. "That's not even close to being true." He looks at where I've pointed and then looks back at me. "And how do you know where they are?"

"Tywin never met his generals without me, just in case one of them tried to kill him or he wanted me to kill them."

Jon surveys the map, his eyes gleaming with possibility. "What else looks wrong?" he demands eagerly.

I lean over the map, and the two of us get begin to review the positions of each army.


	4. Chapter 4

I pull a blanket over my head, burrowing deep beneath it. For the first time in a long time, I've got a full stomach and am able to relax.

When Robb finally came back to fetch me from the map room, he brought me a bowl of stew. While Jon showed Robb the changes to the map, I scarfed it down, savoring the chunks of rabbit and potato. I felt like a bolt of lightning hit me when I stopped eating halfway through to offer it to Rhoyne. The direwolves didn't look up from their map. I continued eating the rest of the stew, but my stomach twisted uncomfortably the whole time. I couldn't stop thinking of Rhoyne and where he was, if he had enough to eat. Jon had disappeared without a word. I looked up from cleaning my bowl and realized he was gone. Robb walked me through camp in the quickly fading light to his personal tent. A small tent had been placed off to one side of his for me. I wasted no time in crawling inside and collapsing, not even pulling my boots off

In the distance, I can hear the sound of thunder. Lighting flashes every now and then, illuminating the tent. I curl up tightly and close my eyes. A storm is coming, and even though I'm bound to get wetter in this tent than in a stone castle, I can't seem to mind. 

\--

I wake to hands squeezing around my neck above the collar. Lighting flashes and I see a man sitting over me, his face contorted in anger as he strangles me. I gasp for air and immediately lose what little I had. Kicking and hitting blindly, I try to scream but have no air to do so with. The pouring rain and sound of thunder would have muffled my cries anyways. Spots creep into my vision, creating dots in the darkness. 

As an act of last desperation, I reach for my power, but it won't come to me. It's one of Stark's men, I realize. "You killed my sons, Grim!" he snarls over me, confirming my fears. I dig my fingers into his wrists weakly. The collar is digging into me. The collar!

My hands fly to my neck and I purposefully wrap them around the collar. It turns yellow with heat. The man hisses and yanks his hand back on reflex. I gulp down a huge lungful of air. "Help!" I scream at the top of my lungs, trying to buck off the man on top of me.

His fist meets the side of my jaw, but I manage to squirm out from under him. I make a desperate lunge for the entrance of the tent, which is flapping open as rain drips inside. The man grabs my ankle and jerks me back. I dig my fingers into the mud outside, shrieking as he pulls me backwards.

Flipping onto my back, I kick him square in the face. This time I'm able to make it out of the tent. As I start to get my feet under me, the man tackles me around the waist. We land in the mud, grappling with each other.

A roar that is definitely not thunder makes me look up. A figure is running towards us, sword catching the moonlight. The man must see it too, because he pushes me away and takes off running.

The figure stops at me and leans down. Lighting flashes and Robb holds out a hand to me, water dripping from his hair. I let him pull me out of the mud. He pushes me towards his tent and I follow. 

Together, we duck under the flap and straighten inside. It's quieter in here, lit by torches. "What happened?" Robb demands, sheathing his sword back in it's scabbard. 

"I don't know!" I retort angrily, massaging my throat with one hand. "I woke up to that man trying to strangle me to death. He said.." I trail off for a minute, but the stern look Robb gives me makes me continue. "He said I killed his sons," I admit uncomfortably.

"Karstark," Robb mutters under his breath. "I was worried this would happen." He tosses his scabbard to one side of the entrance. "You're going to have to stay in here."

I glance around the tent. There's a small table in the middle of the tent, and a pallet covered with furs in one corner. It doesn't seem like the King of the North's tent to me. Perhaps a captain or a general's at best. The rest of the tent is sectioned off with a blanket hanging from the roof. I take a step closer to it, curious about what's on the other side.

"That's where Sansa sleeps," Robb informs me as he peels of his wet coat. Of course, the Starks are a pack, it makes sense all the sibling would sleep together. But Sansa is already back from taking Rhoyne to the messengers? I jump backwards, remembering his sister's intense hatred of me.

"Don't worry, she's a heavy sleeper." Robb pulls a few furs off of the pallet and begins to lay them out on the opposite side of the table. I eye the blanket separating me from the female direwolf's rage uncomfortably. I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep so close to someone who wants to kill me. Robb straightens and notices my demeanor.

"Sansa was bound by goldsong too, you know," he says. I whip my head towards him in surprise. "After my father was murdered, Sansa was a hostage in King's Landing. The Lannisters put a gold necklace around her neck to keep her from shifting. It takes a lot of magic to bind a wolf, in the end it took four of them. Tywin, Jaime, Cersei, and Joffrey." He spits out each name one by one.

"Joffrey had discarded her engagement in favor of the Tyrell girl, but that didn't mean he let her go. She was a toy to him. Sansa was caged in King's Landing, but she was too strong to be bound completely. Every full moon, she became too strong to be contained. She would burst into a wolf, rabid with pain. They found this out quickly and locked her away in the deepest dungeons for that night every month. I fought my way South, but there was no way I could get to her. She never told me directly, but Joffrey would beat her for every victory I had."

"They married her to the imp, Tyrion Lannister. The next time Joffrey beat Sansa, Tyrion defended her. Joffrey threw him into the cell with Sansa on the full moon, wanting her to kill him so he could execute her for it. She told me that not killing him was the hardest thing she's ever done. It wasn't that she wanted to kill him. In her state, she would have wanted to kill anyone, even me. But she resisted it, and the imp made it through the night. In gratitude, he broke the goldsong on her collar. She escaped North, and the imp escaped East," Robb finishes.

I trace a design on the table as my mind spins. We're not so different, Sansa and I. Both bound by Lannisters and forced to act against our will. I can see why she would hate me. I'm a reminder of everything she's been through, and for all she knows I'm the cold-blooded Grim that everyone makes me out to be.

"Jon took it the hardest," Robb admits, toying with a wine glass left on the table. "He's protective of the girls, especially Arya. We're still looking for her. We don't where she is, if she's alive or not." He looks up at me, ready to ask me.

"I don't know." I shake my head regretfully. Robb seems to expect this and just nods. "Jon doesn't sleep with the rest of the family?" I ask hesitantly.

"Jon's got his own tent, and I don't think Ygritte would take kindly to sharing him," Robb says, smiling ruefully. I nod as though I understand, storing the name in my head. Ygritte, Jon's woman.

"Get some sleep. If the weather holds, we'll attack in the morning." Robb turns away. Kicking his boots off, he throws himself onto the pile of furs.

Peeling off my wet and muddy cloak, I hang it on the backs of one of the chairs. My boots are covered in mud as well, so I unlace them and set them aside.

My clothes are still soaking wet, but I lay down as well, curling into a ball to conserve body heat. My mind races with new knowledge as I try to go to sleep, the fact that we'll be leading an attack in the morning most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think so far? I love feedback. Just fyi, there's a plot twist coming up in the next few chapters!


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up to the realization that someone is standing over me. I keep my eyes closed for a second taking a slow deep breath and feigning sleep. Then I lash out, tangling my arm in a blanket. Thrashing wildly, I manage to immobilize myself by wrapping the blanket tightly around my limbs. I freeze, realizing that I'm stuck.

Very slowly, I tilt my head upwards. Sansa's face looks down at me upside down. Crap. Out of all of the Starks, it had to be the one that hates me the most. It's a little hard to read her expression like this, but from the pursed lips and raised eyebrow, I'd say she is decidedly unamused. My heart sinks.

I freeze, still panting slightly. My heart feels jittery in my chest, the adrenaline of waking up to a fight. I'm still wrapped up in my blankets. I can't help feeling self conscious as Sansa watches me, putting her hands on her hips. She's already dressed, I realize. She's wearing a thick black cloak with fur around the collar, her red hair loose around her head.

"Somehow I was expecting something more threatening," Sansa says flatly. She nudges my rips sharply with the toe of her boot. "Get up, we're about to move."

I sit upright and Sansa turns and walks away. She lifts the tent flap with one hand and steps out, revealing a dark sky and a draft of cold wind. The sun isn't even up yet. I glance over at Robb's bed and find it empty. I'm alone with Sansa then. Not good. It's not surprising considering Robb will be leading the attack. 

What is surprising is how I managed to sleep through him getting up and leaving the tent. I always considered myself a light sleeper, I had to be. Maybe I was just worn out after my near death experience last night.

Shaking myself free of the dreadful blankets, I can't help shivering from the cold. I slept fully clothed last night, not even taking my wet socks off. My boots are lying nearby. Pulling them to me, I begin to lace them up. My finger fumble in my rush to get dressed, thinking about Sansa waiting for me outside.

The only coat I have is my cloak, which is still hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Standing, I reach for the cloak. The thin material is still damp to the touch, but it's all I have. Cringing, I wrap it around myself and hurry out of the tent.

Sansa is waiting for me on one side of the entrance. The rain last night has finally stopped, leaving the ground outside sticky with thick, deep mud. I glance down and notice that Sansa has bare feet, ankle-deep in the mud. Confused, I look back up at her. Surely she has boots, she's Sansa Stark. Even I have boots. 

"You're not wearing any shoes," I point out.

"Yes, I know," she replies, smirking and raising an eyebrow as though challenging me. I immediately back off, and holding my palms up in surrender. It's not my place to question why. "Thanks for the concern," she adds, flashing me with what looks like a smile. It seems predatorial to me, showing off her bared teeth.

Utterly confused, I follow her as she walks away. Perhaps she really is crazy. I let myself fall behind Sansa, but am careful not to step on her heel as we walk. The camp itself is more or less empty. Only a few men flit from tent to tent.

"Robb and Jon went ahead," Sansa informs me. "I told them to send for me right before we attack."

And Robb decided that he would leave me with Sansa? Tywin would never have gone to battle without his best weapon at his side. As we leave the camp, the mud turns to grass under our feet. Sansa leads me up the hill. My legs burn as we climb the steep slope.

As we crest the top, I can see the back lines of the Stark soldiers. They're gathered in formation down in the valley, the Lannisters facing them. Only a few hundred feet separate the two. Sansa seems completely nonplussed by her late arrival. She leads me down the aisles between formations, her head held high. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was Queen of the North.

Personally, I can't help shrinking a little as I follow her past line after line of soldiers. How many of their fellow soldiers have I killed? How many relatives? How many friends? I try to keep from meeting anyone's eyes. I already have enough faces to haunt me.

We pass the archers at the very back, then the formations of foot soldiers, and the mounted soldiers at the front. I find myself wishing for the roan mare I rode as we get closer and closer to the Lannister front. Standing on foot seems like such a vulnerable position. I glance up at Sansa to gauge her reaction heading into war.

She looks eager for the battle, a vicious glint in her eye. I've seen that hardened look before, in the faces of countless soldiers. They have the eyes of killers. I don't doubt that Sansa has killed before. I've heard enough of her story through Tywin to understand the vengeance that drives her. I don't think she regrets her kills.

Robb is at the front of the formation, Jon beside him. Unlike Sansa, they are both wearing full body armor, swords sheathed at their hip. Robb is talking with the man on his left. One of his bannermen's lords I assume. Jon dismounts his horse to greet his sister. He smiles with genuine affection and throws out his arms.

"Couldn't start until you got here," he teases as he hugs her. Sansa embraces him tightly and then smiles at him. "D'you get your beauty sleep?" he asks.

"Well rested and ready to kill," she replies. Jon pats her shoulder fondly. Looking at me, he nods in greeting and then gets back on his horse. I'm surprised by the acknowledgment. After our first meeting, I had assumed I would be getting the cold shoulder from Jon, and rightly so. He has no reason to like me.

"Talisa," Robb calls, riding towards me.

"Your Grace," I reply, bowing my head. I'm shocked that he remembered my name. Even though he asked me, I still assumed he would call me Grim.

"We will go in first on horses," Robb tells me quietly. "You hang back with the foot soldiers. Greatjon's going to look after you." He gestures to a huge man who detaches himself from formation to approach us.

I nod in assent. It makes sense to put me in such a risky position. My powers aren't very useful from horseback, I have to physically touch someone for it to work. He didn't leave me alone at camp because he was afraid I would run away. And if he locked me up, there's no guarantee the Lannisters wouldn't peel around and take me again, or kill me. Considering Twyin's dead and Jaime must be leading the attacks now, I bet every Lannister soldier has orders to kill me on sight.

Robb turns and rides back to his position at the front of the formation. I watch him ride away. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. I've never been in battle before. Not even a skirmish. Tywin only used me as an assassin, not a soldier. My stomach feels leaden with dread.

"Miss Talisa," Greatjon greets. I jump as I turn toward him. The giant is even bigger up close. He dips his chin politely at me. I blink in surprise. Wonders never cease, the Stark forces seem determined to keep me guessing.

"Hello," I reply dumbly.

"Better come with me now, they're about to start," he warns. I stick close to his side as he returns to his formation. His men watch me closely, but say nothing as we rejoin their ranks. My back feels exposed with the line of Stark soldiers standing behind me. "You stay close," Greatjon orders. "War's no place for a woman, even one such as yourself."

What about Sansa? I stand on my toes trying to spot her. Standing on foot next to Jon, Sansa turns to Robb. A conversation seems to go between them with only a look, and Robb nods at her. Sansa closes her eyes and tilts her head up to the sky. She begins to shift, shrinking and growing all over faster than I can comprehend. Her cloak falls away in a roil of fur, revealing her new form. A direwolf, with reddish tan fur. The wolf, Sansa, must be as large as a small horse.

Robb roars a war cry and the Starks begin to beat their swords against their shields. Throwing her head massive head back, Sansa howls, joining the cry. The hair stands up on my arms at the sound. Across the field, the Lannister respond in kind, brandishing their weapons and shouting a challenge. Wheeling his horse around, Robb charges across the field. His men follow closely, Jon at his side. Sansa bounds forward, outpacing her brothers mounted on horse.

Greatjon bellows a cry and begins to jog forward behind the horses. I follow behind him, suddenly glad not to be wearing a skirt. Up ahead, the two forces clash together. Chaos instantly breaks out, the sound of swords clashing and screams deafening. Lannister soldiers spill into the foot soldiers ranks like a flood. I lose Greatjon in the distraction.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I think in terror. I duck under a sword, I'm not sure whose. Pulling myself together, I look for Lannister red. Ducking and weaving through the field, I dart in close to soldiers locked in combat, dropping enemies with a touch. All around me horses are falling, squealing as they die.

Everything is chaos. Someone, Jon? is fighting off three Lannister soldiers at once. I don't know who's winning and who's losing. The next Lannister soldier I kill topples forward on top of me. I shriek as he crushes me beneath him. His weight knocks the breath out of my lungs. I wriggle desperately, but I can't get out from underneath him. There's blood and death and it's all so much. I'm hyperventilating.

I manage to flip myself over onto my stomach. Closing my eyes, I try to calm myself. I have to live for Rhoyne. I have to live for Rhoyne, I repeat to myself. I have to live for Rhoyne. I cover my ears and bury my face in the dirt, breathing raggedly. 

The noise gradually lessens. I open my eyes again, wheezing from the heavy weight on top of me. I crane my neck to look across the field. The Starks are winning. As I watch, the last force of Lannister soldiers turn and run. Jon leads the men one horses to chase them down. Sansa's head snaps up from where she's been . . .eating one of the soldiers. She takes off after them. The remaining Stark soldiers are combing through the bodies, looking for friends. I make out Robb a good distance from me on foot, his shoulder slumped forward.

Greatjon goes forward and speaks with Robb. I can't hear them, they're too far away. Robb turns toward him angrily. He must not like whatever the news was. Greatjon ducks his head and continues to speak. Robb gestures angrily and they break apart. Robb begins to join his men is looking through the bodies of the dead and dying. Looking for me? Surely not.

Robb gradually gets closer and closer. I try to lift the heavy body off of me, but I can't. My arms are free, so I wave them widely. Robb looks up, alerted by the movement. Our eyes meet. It might be my imagination, but Robb seems to sag in relief when he spots me. I smile weakly at him. And then an arrow hits Robb in his left shoulder, wedged in between the plates of armor.

He falls to one knee and tries to get back up by leaning on his sword. Another arrow zips out of the sky, sinking into stomach. A section of the Lannister army flanked them, I realize in horror. Some of the archers have longbows and those arrows go right through armor. Greatjon shouts in anger and charges the archers. His men follow him, leaving Robb behind. Alone.

I throw myself towards him. The heavy body of the armored Lannister pins me down. Screaming in frustration, I lunge forward with all my strength. I'm not sure how I get free of the body, but the second I do I start running. Robb falls onto his back as I reach him. I skid to my knees and kneel at his side, surveying the damage. The first arrow is lodged deep in his shoulder, not far from his heart. The second looks like it hit one of his kidneys. Kill shots, both of them. Even with his werewolf healing, he'll die.

Its counterintuitive, but I have to pull those arrows out of him so I can fix him. Right now they're acting as a stopper, keeping his blood inside his body, but the second I pull them out he'll start bleeding out. Robb groans through clenched teeth, his hands reaching for the arrow. He's still trying to get back up. I pin his uninjured shoulder to the ground. 

"Stay still," I order, surveying his wounds. He squints up at me, and his clouded eyes seem to sharpen a little in recognition. "This is going to hurt," I warn. Bracing one hand on his shoulder, I yank the first arrow out. Robb shouts out in pain. Blood starts seeping out at an alarming rate. I turn to the second arrow and pull it out as well. He’s bleed to death if I don’t do something soon.

“Let me use my power on you,” I ask Rob desperately. He’s losing to much blood. “Robb say yes I can use my power on you. Say yes!” I demand, pressing my hands down trying to keep pressure on the wounds.

“Yes,” he slurs thickly. I close my eyes and reach for my power. It comes slowly, so so slow, but I can feel it flowing out to my hands. I push with all my might. Normally all I need is one touch, but for this I have to strain. 

It’s working. The wounds are stitching themselves back together under my hands, the blood flow slowing to a trickle. With one final push, the skin smooths over as though nothing happened. The healing should have been instantaneous, but I haven't healed anyone it a long time. Guess I'm out of practice.

Exhausted, I sit back on my heels and wipe my wrist across my forehead, smearing it with Robb’s blood. I’m dizzy and nauseous. I feel like I might throw up. That hasn’t happened after in a long time, but I've used too much of my power. It's a lot harder to give life than to take it. Not to mention, werewolves are largely immune to magic, which made healing Robb that much harder.

Robb sits up, covered in his own blood and still breathing hard. His eyes are wide and he presses a hand against he shoulder and then looks back at me. I give him a weary smile that feels more like a grimace.

“What did you do?” he asks in confusion. I'm probably about to pass out, but I owe him an explanation.

“I’m a Grim,” I say. “I can kill with a touch. But I can heal with a touch too.”

My ears begin to ring loudly. Robb's mouth moves, but I can't hear the words. Too much. I used too much power. Black creeps into my vision, and I slump to the side as I pass out. My head never hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist! Talisa is a healer too! That's why her name is Grim, like the Grim Reaper. She can give or take life, like a reaper. Let me know if you like it! Expect more Robb and Talisa moments in the coming chapters.


End file.
